A Necessary Evil
by Scribe Teradia
Summary: After the Dark Lord's demise, someone has to pick up the slack and manage the business of evil... but Theodore Nott? Auror Granger is determined to catch him, but everything's not what it seems. Rated for smut and language.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to have way too much fun with her characters.

**Author's Note:** This is dedicated to the supremely awesome SeraphimeRising, who I've also decided to blame for this little slice of smutty goodness. I've recently developed a new obsession for the Hermione/Theo pairings, and this hit me in the middle of the night and wouldn't leave me alone until I got it out. Love it? Hate it? Review and tell me why!!

**A Necessary Evil  
**by Scribe Teradia

_"Better the devil you know than the devil you don't."_  
-- Old saying

_"The evil that is in the world almost always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence if they lack understanding."_  
-- Albert Camus

It was raining, again, falling in sheets that turned absolutely everything grey, and Theo glared at the window, thinking the weather suited his mood entirely too well. He knew they were all waiting for him to speak, to weigh in on the latest developments, the freshest reports, and it certainly wouldn't kill any of them to learn a little patience, a little humility, so he felt no guilt whatsoever at making them wait just a little longer. Thirty seconds or ten minutes, it really made no difference in the grand scheme of things; he knew this because the grand scheme of things was _his_, planned and plotted with his usual meticulous attention to detail, which meant that it rarely came as a surprise when nobody else understood it.

"Sir?" Malfoy asked, from the other side of the desk, and Theo's mouth tightened ever so slightly in annoyance. A decade since Hogwarts, and he still managed to sound like a whiny, obnoxious schoolboy practically begging to be whipped into submission by his betters - except Draco had never been very good at accepting the change in the status quo that had lessened his position in the wizarding world.

"Shut up, Draco," Pansy hissed, from her perch on the desk itself. Her voice almost drew a smirk from Theo, because he knew how much she enjoyed being in a position of power over her ex-boyfriend. Time in his company had done wonders for Pansy, but then he'd always suspected she had quite the brain beneath all that simpering she used to do over the so-called Prince of Slytherin. It hadn't been solely her bedroom skills that got her into his inner circle, though of course he appreciated those, too.

"Your attitude needs work, Malfoy," Theo drawled, finally turning away from the window and back to the matter at hand when he felt enough time had passed. "I can still hear you cringing before you grovel. It's unprofessional."

Fury flashed across the ferret's pointy, aristocratic features, sparked in the mercury-silver eyes, and Theo smirked. Baiting ferret-face had always been one of his favorite hobbies, and the years hadn't made it any less entertaining. To his right, Blaise shifted, ever so slightly, a subtle movement that would be so easily overlooked to anyone who didn't know him, and it was enough of a reminder for Malfoy to get his act together and piece his facade of uncaring professionalism back together. He cleared his throat, tugged his lapel straight, and said, his voice cool, "My apologies, Sir. I'll be sure to work on it."

"As to your report, we've discussed this before. If your project requires additional funding, you need to go through the appropriate channels to request it." Theo leaned back in his chair, blue eyes locked on Malfoy's silver ones, his expression giving nothing away. "The rules are in place for a reason, and I expect you to play by them just like the rest of us." He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing just a bit, and was gratified to see Malfoy flinch in response before he sneered, "You don't get special consideration just because you used to be fuck-bunnies with our lovely Chief Financial Officer."

The tips of Malfoy's ears turned pink, but Theo wasn't sure if it was rage this time or embarrassment. "Yes, Sir." It sounded appropriately meek, for once. "And the other item?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Draco!" Pansy uncrossed and recrossed her legs, giving the men in the room a fascinating view of her thighs before she tugged absently at the hem of her skirt. "Do you really need someone to hold your hand through every life-changing decision now that Mummy dearest is gone? Date the chit, or fuck her brains out, nobody really cares any more who you take to your bed."

"It's quite all right, Pansy." Theo ran a finger up her arm, watching Malfoy's expression when she shivered under his touch, softening at the possessive gesture. "I suspect Malfoy has something more permanent in mind for Miss Greengrass, in which case he does, after all, need my permission." He waited for Malfoy to nod a confirmation before waving a hand dismissively. "Run it by Daphne. If she's agreeable, I'll need it in writing, but I don't expect you'll have much trouble with that. I suggest sooner rather than later, and it's probably a good idea to do it before shagging the chit. Daphne can be a bit overprotective when it comes to her sister." He glanced sidelong at Blaise, who'd been on the receiving end of Daphne's temper more than once.

"Thank you, Sir." Draco looked visibly relieved, but before Theo could dismiss him there was a commotion from the other side of the door. Immediately, he moved between Theo and the door, and Blaise was at his side a second later.

Pansy remained on the desk, hiking her skirt up with one hand while the other undid an extra button on her blouse; Pansy's weapon of choice in any crisis was sex, and Theo never ceased to be amazed by how often it worked. The door opened abruptly, admitting a handful of Aurors into the office, as well as Theo's secretary, who was looking put out. "I'm sorry, Mr. Nott," she said, wringing her hands in distress and reminding him of a house elf.

"Quite all right, Tracy. Such a pleasure to see you again, Miss Granger, but I do wish you'd make an appointment rather than causing such a fuss among my staff," Theo drawled, his attention drawn to the brunette Auror who looked at him with open disdain.

"And give you time to hide all your dirty little secrets?" she scoffed. "I don't think so."

He looked her over appraisingly, noted the lack of wedding ring on her left hand, and enjoyed her expression of discomfort at his scrutiny. "I keep telling you, Granger - it _is_ still Granger, isn't it? - I have nothing to hide."

Weasley, at her side, bristled in offense at the comment, and color blossomed in the woman's cheeks, confirming that this issue had recently come up between them, and he made a mental note to have Pansy add a generous tip to the next payoff to their source at the Ministry. "My personal life is none of your business, Nott." She stepped forward, glared at Malfoy and Zabini until they parted to let her through, and then shoved a paper at him. "I have a writ to search the premises."

Theo scanned the document without touching it, then glanced up at his staff. "Draco, please escort Mr. Weasley to the file room. Blaise, you can play host to Mr. Potter, try to remember to play nicely. Pansy, if you'd alert the remainder of the staff that we have a Ministry presence this afternoon?" His tone was perfectly polite and cordial, the orders issued as a casual request, though the rest of his circle would be able to read the true meaning of his words and act accordingly. "I can handle Miss Granger myself," he added, flashing the woman a smile that was all teeth, not at all a friendly expression but rather a predatory one.

Granger stiffened, withdrawing her hand and turning to pass the paper to Weasley, who looked ready to protest. She laid a hand on his arm, before he could say anything, and murmured, "Just go, Ron. I'll be fine, he won't do anything to me."

Even that soft reassurance didn't convince the redhead, and Pansy stepped between them, rolling her eyes. "We're not bloody fucking children any more, Weasel, some of us actually manage to behave like grown-ups, on occasion."

"Clearly, you're not a part of that group," was his retort, and Theo had to suppress a laugh because he honestly hadn't thought the Weasel had it in him. So many men were intimidated by Pansy, it was refreshing to see one stand up to her... aside from himself, of course.

"Obviously, but your lady love will be safe enough with Theo, which is more than I can say for you with Draco," she whipcracked back, sauntering out of the office. Every man in the room watched her exit, including the Aurors, until Granger cleared her throat, looking disgusted. Her expression was enough to get the rest of them moving, and Blaise, as the last one out, closed the door once more.

Silence, for several minutes, until finally Hermione looked at him with a faint smirk, sidling around the desk until she stood directly in front of him. "What do you think, Theo? Was she right?"

Theo reached up and caught her robes in his hands, pulling her into his lap, his lips grazing her jawline. "Wards, love," he murmured, reminding her to add extra security to the door.

A flick of her wand, and there was the slightest change of pressure in the air as she secured the room, then she dropped it on his desk and ran her fingers through his hair. "You didn't answer my question," she purred, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"The answer is no," he rumbled, his teeth nipping at her chin. "You're not at all safe with me, but I shouldn't have to tell you that, by now."

"I like to hear you say it," she replied, shifting in his lap until she was straddling him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "And I'm really hoping you prove me wrong."

"Don't I always?" His hands were busy, shoving the robe back from her shoulders, and he growled in frustration, "Have I mentioned lately how much I hate the Ministry's dress code?"

"Not since last week." Hermione flashed him a grin, shifting and grinding her hips against his, eliciting another growl from him before she slid off his lap. "Here, let me." She shrugged out of the outer robe, then the inner one, then shimmied out of her trousers with a fascinating hip-wriggle that had him reaching for her again. "I could say the same about _your_ dress code," she added, wrapping her fingers around his tie and giving it a sharp tug.

He growled and pulled her closer, one hand twining in her hair while the other came to rest on her hip, his head lowering to claim her lips with his. She met his kiss willingly, eagerly, fiercely, her tongue warring with his as she ground her hips against him again, never docile or sweet or soft but still wholly feminine. His hand slid around to cup her backside, and she squeaked as he got to his feet, lifting her and then setting her down on his desk. "Not a problem," he said, his voice husky with desire, his hands withdrawing from her so that he could deal with the obstacles of his clothing.

She watched him avidly, eyes alight with fascination and lust, unable to keep from touching him and driving him mad by brushing her fingers here and there while he undressed. He repaid her by kissing her fiercely again once his clothing had been removed and kicked aside, his fingers twining with hers and lifting her arms up and away from his body, pushing her backward until she was sprawled across his desk, still clad in her blouse and knickers and bra. "Smile for the cameras, love," he growled, into her ear, giving her that toothy grin again when her eyes went wide.

"You wouldn't." Her breath hitched in her chest, the authority in her voice wavering as her eyes gleamed.

"I might," he countered, still holding her hands over her head as he moved his lips to her neck, kissing and licking and nibbling the sensitive skin there. "Evil, remember?"

"I-is that a confession, Theo?" It came out shaky, punctuated by a breathy moan when his teeth nipped her throat, her eyes half-closing.

"My pretty little Auror wench," he growled, releasing her hands so that he could slide his own down her arms, then her chest, fondling her breasts through the fabric of her shirt. "You should know me better than that, by now."

Her hands dug into his hair, pulling him back up so that she could glare up at him, and the flash of heat in her eyes made him that much harder. "It never hurts to ask," she snapped, pulling him down to kiss him, trying to assert her dominance. Her teeth grazed his tongue, then bit down, and he groaned into her mouth, his hips jerking in response.

"Fuck, Granger," he hissed, breaking free of the kiss to gasp for air, his hands swiftly unbuttoning her shirt and shoving the fabric aside, his head lowering to nip at her breast through the fabric of her bra.

She moaned, her back arching as her fingers tightened in his hair. "That's the general idea, Theo," she gasped breathlessly, her hips rounding upward as he palmed her other breast, fingers mimicking his mouth before finally reaching around to locate the clasp. That he could unhook it with just the one hand was testament to his skill, and due to a great deal of practice, but it meant he could still torment her through the fabric until he finally pulled it away, exposing her chest to the open air.

"What would your colleagues say," he rumbled, several minutes later, as he trailed kisses down her abdomen, "if they knew what you were up to?"

Her hips rolled upward again as his fingers tugged her knickers down, tearing the flimsy garment in his haste. "Ahh. Sleeping with the enemy? Pretty sure that's breaking at least fifteen codes of conduct."

"Lucky for you we don't do much in the way of sleeping, then," he retorted, tossing her knickers over her shoulder and dipping his head to cut off any further arguments before she had a chance to think of them. Her hips bucked upwards, and he let his chuckle rumble against her, drawing a low cry from her. He loved the taste of her, loved the way she bucked and moaned and writhed beneath him, loved that he had so much power over her, so much control.

Never mind that she was an Auror, that they were technically enemies and there was a part of him that secretly wanted to destroy everything she stood for. None of that mattered when they were together like this, when it was all heat and sweat and passion and /sex/. Leave emotion for the pansy-boys like Weasley or Malfoy, Theodore Nott was in better control of himself, and he knew that on some level she knew this, too, had acknowledged it the first time he'd ever kissed her, back in sixth year while she was still vulnerable and reeling from the Weasel's snogging of that cow Lavender Brown.

Under his control, at his mercy, and the skillful work of his tongue and lips and fingers broke her apart, shattered her in a wave of pleasure that he knew she would never feel with anyone else, and instead of giving her time to recover the way he usually did, he straightened and thrust into her roughly. Her eyes flew open, and she cried out as her hands found his shoulders, her fingernails clawing at his back. He leaned down to kiss her, crushing her mouth with his, stealing her breath before his lips slid sideways to hiss into her ear, "Tell me, Granger."

She was gasping for air, her body still shaking from the orgasm he hadn't let her come down from, and her voice quivered as she whispered, "Ahh, Theo." Her breath hitched, and she added, barely loud enough to be heard, "Fuck me."

His teeth grazed the skin below her ear, then he bit at her earlobe, drawing another cry from her as he withdrew just enough to slam back into her, hard enough that the sound of it rang through his office. "Come again, love?" he growled, his fingers digging into her hips, holding her in place. "I didn't quite catch that."

Her eyes focused on his, and the temper flashed in them again; she hated him for doing this to her, but she loved that he _could_ do it, and the contradiction of her own nature made her furious, made her fierce. It was why she kept coming back to him, even though she knew (she couldn't prove it, but she _knew_) that he was up to no good, that he was somehow involved in so many Dark things that the taint on his soul was almost worse than the Dark Lord's had been. It was why he let her, why he craved her, why he never found release the same way with anyone else (and not for lack of trying, either). She was brilliant, she was beautiful, she was relentless and passionate and so fucking good it hurt to look at her sometimes.

Then she opened her mouth, and the terrifically vulgar sound of her begging him to just fuck her already had him pounding away even before she'd finished the sentence. There was something so very erotic about banging her on his desk that neither of them ever lasted all that long (and was probably why they ended up shagging in his office more often than anywhere else, honestly), but she was just as spent as he was by the time he finally collapsed atop her, her hands falling away from his backside to land on the desk.

He listened to the sound of her breathing, wishing for at least the thousandth time that she wouldn't say the words he knew were coming. "Whatever it is you're doing, Theo," she began.

Pushing away from her with a low groan, Theo sighed, shaking his head. "Do we really have to go over this again, love?"

She winced slightly as she sat up, her brow furrowed as she looked up at him. "I just don't understand why it has to be you. Malfoy--"

"Is an idiot," he snarled, cutting her off. He picked through the discarded clothing on the floor and retrieved his from hers, dropping them into his chair and making sure he had everything before he started to re-dress himself. "He can barely manage wiping his own arse half the time, he'd make an utter fucking mess of things and you'd end up with a worse problem than when Snake Face was kicking around."

Hermione flinched, sliding gingerly off the desk and picking up her clothes, her head down, the unruly curls hiding her face, though he could guess well enough that she was fighting tears. It was an old argument, good versus evil, old as time and never easily resolved, especially when they were both too stubborn to compromise any more than they had to in order to justify their couplings. She turned her back on him and began pulling her clothes on, too fast, and he felt a guilty pang at having hurt her. Again.

Stepping up behind her, he slid his arms around her and pulled her back against him, taking her hands in his and twining his fingers with hers. "Hermione," he murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "Don't make this any more difficult than it already is." He very rarely used her given name, an unspoken line in the sand he'd drawn for himself ages ago, because it meant recognizing their familiarity, which was stupid and reckless; he didn't like being stupid and reckless, it felt too Gryffindor.

"Theo," she whispered, turning in his arms and pressing her face against his neck; he could feel her tears, and he swallowed hard, wishing there was something he could say to comfort her, to keep her from making him feel so bloody guilty. "I just don't want to lose you. What if you get caught?"

"There's nothing to catch, love." He bent to kiss her, cradling her face in his hands and wiping away her tears. "I'm a respectable businessman and a law-abiding citizen." This was an outright lie, and both of them knew it, but she didn't have any proof to that effect, and he certainly wasn't going to give her any. He kissed her again, then stepped back, letting go of her reluctantly. "Best finish buttoning up, Granger, it looks like your team's finished with their search."

While she attended to the last necessary details of her clothing, Theo took the time to set the office to rights, and cast a charm to eliminate the smell of sex that still hung in the air. Hermione settled in a chair on the other side of his desk and took down the wards she'd put up, assuming an expression of prissy disapproval that made him want to bend her over the desk all over again. Less than a minute later, the door opened with a bang, and Tracy scurried in, followed by Potter and Blaise. Blaise looked amused, Potter looked annoyed, and Hermione arched a brow when Malfoy appeared a few moments later. "Where's Ron?" she asked.

Malfoy shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly as he stared down at her. "I'm not his bloody warden, Granger. Probably still trying to sift through files." He glanced at Theo and smirked. "Maybe you should have sent an Auror who could tell the difference between a financial statement and a grocery list."

"I'll be sure to send him back to you whenever he turns up," Theo said, before Hermione could suggest sending someone to go look for the missing Weasley. Pansy was still absent, which suggested she was up to no good, and he had a sneaking suspicion neither of them would appreciate being interrupted if she was doing what he thought she was doing. Well, Weasley might, but he could probably use a good shagging, and Pansy was certainly that. "Run along, Granger, you have superiors to report to."

She glared at him, but he knew that the fire in her eyes was from more than just anger, and was glad he'd decided to remain seated. "Don't think you're getting out of this clean, Nott. I _will_ catch you, sooner or later."

"You're always welcome to try, Granger."

*** * ***

Ron had left Theo Nott's office in a decidedly foul mood, trailing after Ferret Malfoy and scowling at the floor. "Do you need any help reading the labels on the files, Weasel?" Draco had asked, opening the door to the file room. Ron had snarled something unintelligible and pushed past him into the room, yanking open drawers at random.

"Oh, no, this just won't do." The voice was smoke and whiskey and sex, all the things that were bad for a man, and the woman in the doorway wasn't much better. Pansy was nothing like the supermodels in the girly magazines Ginny read, but she was attractive in her own way, and for all that he'd called her a pug-faced hag back in school he'd been in love with her ever since she cornered him in an empty classroom and did things to him that not even Lavender would ever have done. Some things, she'd told him when he'd asked, good girls just didn't do. "Since you can't be trusted to watch the Weasel, Draco, you can go spread the word about our Ministry guests like a good little errand-boy."

Malfoy glared at her, and she glared right back, and Ron hoped the Ferret would get his arse moving soon because if their staredown lasted much longer he was going to come in his trousers. Fortunately, the girly-haired twit made his exit, huffing as he went, and Ron licked his lips as Pansy closed the door, flicking her wand almost absently to lock and ward and soundproof the door. At least, he hoped it was soundproofed, because a second later he'd backed her into it and was kissing her like a newly-released prisoner of Azkaban.

She kissed him back, biting at his tongue, scratching at his back with her long fingernails, then she pushed him away and smirked up at him. "However did you manage to convince that tight little cunt to bring you along on the harassment du jour?" she drawled, sliding her hands up his chest.

"Told her she'd better not expect me to come," he replied, smirking back at her. "Easiest trick in the book, really." He ran his hands up her sides, groped at her chest beneath her clothes. "You have my payment?"

"You know I do." Pansy stepped into him, pressing herself against him, and he pushed her back against the door. "For services rendered, though? Maybe I should make you earn your keep."

"I'm a stand-up guy, Parkinson," Ron growled, pulling at her blouse until it was no longer tucked neatly into her skirt and then sliding his hands up it, locating the threads holding her bra together at the center of her chest and applying just enough force to snap them cleanly. "You should know I'm always good for it."

"And if I ask you to take me standing up?" she purred, her fingers nimble on the buttons of his shirt, undoing them rapidly and then scritching her nails down his chest.

"All you had to do was ask," he replied, leaning down to kiss her hard. His hips moved against hers, and she moaned into his mouth as his hands kneaded her breasts with the skill of a great deal of practice. Then they moved lower, hiking up her skirt, and he rumbled his approval when his fingers encountered nothing but Pansy underneath the skirt. She gasped at his touch, a shiver running through her, and he kissed her harder, stroking her again before pulling away.

"That's not what I call earning your keep," she protested, reaching up to tug at his hair.

He batted her hand away and surveyed the room, then bent just a little and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She squealed, then fondled his backside, and he slid a hand up her leg to prove that he had the advantage, earning a moan. He hiked her skirt up until it was around her hips, then lifted her and set her atop one of the filing cabinets. She caught her lower lip in her teeth as she realized what he was intending, and he rested his chin on her knee as he grinned wickedly up at her.

Half an hour later, after they'd thoroughly defiled the file room and were lying on a hastily-conjured pile of cushions, Pansy kissed his shoulder and said, "Well earned, Weasley." She dug through the clothes on the floor and fished out an envelope, tilting her head back to kiss his cheek as she passed it over. "Should you ever decide that leaking Ministry secrets isn't lucrative enough, you've a promising career as my bitch."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, flipping the envelope to the other side of the cushions before reaching down to fondle her backside. "Think we've time for one more go before I have to go blend back in with the forces of good?"

"Now I know why you Weasleys are so bloody prolific," she quipped, sliding her hand down his chest and then further down to confirm that he was, indeed, ready to go again. "Fucking stamina."

"Too right."

**The End**


End file.
